Chevrolet Choo Choo.

Wednesday morning, May 18, 2016.  Destination, Dovedale, via Ilam, in the Peak District National Park.  Dovedale is about fifteen miles east of our starting point, Leek, Staffordshire. Whenever I see the road sign for "Ilam", I always think of eleven o'clock in the morning. Coincidentally, that's around the time we arrived at Ilam on our way to Dovedale. 

This was going to be a three day camping adventure for my son, Tristan and his good friend, Dominic aka "Dom."  Tristan had suggested I take the shorter yet, oh so narrow, winding road via Ilam, to get to Dovedale.  A road so narrow that whenever a vehicle came the other way, I had to take evasive action, pull way wide to the edge and avoid upsetting the sheep.  I will refrain from any sheep jokes.  

Here they are, all ready to go on their camping trip.  Dom is on the left and that makes Tristan on the right.  The photo was taking from a very wet Dovedale car park, which you might refer to as a parking lot.  

Before leaving, I told them if they needed a ride back, I would come and get them.  They had planned walking the fifteen miles back to Leek.  

As I headed back out of Dovedale, I decided to take the easier route back to Leek.  A road somewhat wider than the one we came in on.  Then I got to a crossroads.  One way indicated Ashbourne, Derbyshire, the other, Buxton, Derbyshire.  Knowing Buxton very well, I thought, what the heck, head towards Buxton for a different, scenic drive back.

Then it happened.  My very smooth running Chevrolet, suddenly became a violent, trembling beast of a car.  The car was shaking real bad and I heard a sound that made me feel like I was in the cab of a steam train.  Wasn't quite sure whether to apply the accelerator or look for some coal to shovel.  This went on for about five minutes.  Then the car ran smoothly for the next five minutes.  I was feeling somewhat panicky but I did maintain my composure.

The drive to Buxton seemed to take forever and then some.  The car continued with its five minutes of smooth driving and five minutes of living in an earthquake zone.  Buxton, where for art thou, Buxton.  Finally after about thirty minutes, I arrived in Buxton.

I knew that the journey from Buxton to Leek would require me driving the A53, one of the steepest stretches of road in the UK.  Predictably, as I headed up the steep road, my car started acting up again.  Somehow, I did continue to stay calm.  I visualised the end of the thirteen mile stretch that would get me to Leek and to a mechanic I trusted.

I explained the symptoms to the mechanic and I got my Chevrolet booked in for the next morning, Thursday morning.  

After taking my car to the mechanics, I waited for the outcome.  Of course, my car needed one part and the part wasn't going to arrive until Friday morning.  The part, to bore you, was called a caliper, which is part of the braking system.  How odd that such weird happenings from my car could be related to the braking system. 

On Friday morning, my phone rang.  It was my son asking me to come and get them.  At this point, I still didn't know if my car had been fixed.  I explained to my son what had happened to my car.  I told him I'd phone him back.  Luckily, the car was fixed.  Within the hour, I had paid for the repair and got the two dudes in what was now a very smooth running car.

I know, by my standards, I rambled on in this post.  To summarise, which is a good starting point for anybody who, heaven forbid, skims through my posts, all turned out well.   I stayed calm.  That, in itself, is a momentous step forward in my ongoing challenge of not allowing anxiety to overwhelm me.

As for Dom and Tristan, they had fun during three days of torrential rain. 

Flash Friction.

Hi there, yes it's me, Penny the Jack Russell dog and modest internet superstar!  My human dad, Gary, is still feeling rather lethargic.  Which means, I'm going to get him motivated.  Motivation will come from him doing the following assignment.

The assignment is in regards to something called, "flash friction", arf, sorry, "flash fiction".  Gary is  curious about what it is and thus, I'm getting him to do some research on the subject. 

I could tell him what the definition of flash fiction is.  However, I think it would be most excellent that he went to the village of Flash and find out if the folks of Flash, who I guess are called, "Flashers", could explain to Gary what flash fiction is all about.  

We live in a town named, "Leak", oops, "Leek."  As you can see, Leek is not far from Flash.  The distance is just over eight miles.  Gary can get there in a flash in his flash car, or maybe about fifteen minutes.

Gary being Gary, thinks that flash fiction must be rude.  When it comes to a flash, he thinks of somebody and we're not naming names, who likes to quickly expose their private parts.  At this point, I make no mention of a trench coat.

So, with his thinking, "Flash Gordon", means flashing some dude named Gordon.  I shall let you work out what he might think of, "flash flood", "flashlight", "flashback", "flash in the pan", "flash the cash", or that movie, "Flashdance."

I could help Gary out by letting him know that there's a nice human who's well into flash fiction. All he'd have to do is follow this link over to Yolanda's site, which is here, DEFENDING THE PEN.

I shall end this pawst off with some pawetry.  Yes, Penny the Pawet, paws some prose, you nose, um, knows.

Flash fiction

An addiction

Do a flash

Make some cash

Flash in the pun

Flash on the run

Jumpin' Jack Flash

Balderdash 

Such a mishmash

So slapdash 

With a bit of panache

Flash fiction

An addiction.

Good Morning, Rainbow.

It was just gone five on the Friday morn

A sprinkling of rain welcomed the dawn

The rising sun reflected the rain

The emotions I felt, hard to contain

Solar rays kissed the skies

Filled such colour in my eyes

A rainbow or two

A magical view.

Then came the dream

The rainbow stream

Of flowing thoughts

Of hopeful reports

A symbol of change

Time to arrange

That brand new start

That sings in my heart.

A New Adventure Trail.

I've been in the mood for exploring the local area.  I went to the major park in Leek, Staffordshire, named Brough Park.  I discovered a trail.  Where would the trail lead to?  What might I see?

For the first five minutes I was enclosed by trees and bushes. Then, to the left of me, a lush green landscape was revealed.  

Directly in front of me was the trail that leads to an adventure for another day.

Back to the view on the left.  The sun continues its westward journey.   

The adventure trail for another day.  A blue-tinged pathway of intrigue.

And beyond, way beyond the trees you see above the pond in the previous photos, to the north west, a gently whirling windmill.

I turned back.  Back to my car.  Back to the home that I shall be leaving in early August.  A new adventure trail for my son, for Penny, our beloved, cherished dog.  A new adventure trail for us all.  Each adventure trail, a definition of who we are.

Each of us has a trail, a pathway, that journey.  Sometimes the pathway will have potholes.  Yet, with each pothole, we climb out, we learn, we carry on.

Embraces Horizon.

A short stroll from home.  

A field to roam

The evening glow

Of wonder I know.

The remnants remain of the setting sun

Embraces horizon, emerges as one

The balance of nature speaks to me

I learn to see

Tomorrow

No sorrow

A revelation

A destination

The sun will return

A lesson I learn

Beyond the fears

Beyond the tears

There is hope

Together, we cope

From Leek To No Leak.

On Wednesday, January Twenty Third, I had an another outpatients appointment at the University Hospital of North Staffordshire in Stoke on Trent.

I was sent a letter informing me that I had to go to the Department of Anaesthetics.  There was a map included, but the map gave no indication of the building I was supposed to go to.  First of all, I was somewhat puzzled as to why I was going to that department and second of all, I reckoned it would be a darned good idea to find out where I was actually going to.

So, I phoned the hospital and asked why I was going to that department and where the department actually was.  The lady I spoke to didn't have a clue why I was going there, but luckily, she did tell me the location.  With limited information and thinking it must be an ultrasound test, I headed off.  And before you ask, I'm reasonably confident I'm not pregnant and if I was, I wouldn't want to know the sex of the baby.

From Leek, Staffordshire to the hospital is about a twelve mile drive westwards.  Upon my arrival, much to my surprise, I found the correct building.  Inside the building, I was directed to the Central Treatment Suite.  In the first reception area was an old dude sitting there.  He asked me if I was the ambulance driver that was going to take him home.  I told him I wasn't an ambulance driver and I'd had enough trouble remembering which side of the road to drive on.  He muttered something about, "I know what you mean...bloody drivers these days!"

The receptionist in the first area told me to go over and push a green button.  Upon pushing the green button, the receptionist in the actual waiting room, let me in.  I showed her my appointment letter and she asked me to take a seat.  And no, I'm not that pedantic.  I didn't walk out with a seat.

I looked around and observed there were a lot of really old dudes.  Suddenly, I felt real young.  I also realised it was pretty darn warm in the waiting room.  I noticed that a lot of the old dudes were getting cups of water from a drinks machine.  I thought, "How nice of the hospital to supply water to cool down the old dudes."

I sat there for about fifteen minutes.  "Mr. Perrick!?", yelled out a nurse with a very strong Northern Irish accent.  "Ah, do you mean, Mr. Pennick?", I responded.  "That's what I said, Mr. Perrick!"  Anyway, I'm figuring this nurse is gonna' rub some jelly on my belly or whatever.  "Mr. Perrick."  At this point I give up correcting my name.  "Mr. Perrick, your urologist has asked us to get you to do an urinary flow test. Please go to the drinks machine and have some cups of water.  We'll see how you're doing in half an hour."

Then it all became clear. Old dudes drinking cups of water.  If only I'd known beforehand.  So, off I went to the drinks machine and topped myself up.  One cup of water became twenty cups of water.  "Are you ready, Mr. Perrick?"  "I'll give it my best shot",  I replied.  I was led to a room and told to go urinate into this weird sink that had monitoring lights to the side of it.  I then remembered that I don't 'POD'.  Which is, 'Piddle On Demand'.  Twenty cups of water were having none of it.  I tried and I tried.  Nothing.  The nurse knocked on the door and asked me how it was going.  Well, it aint going, nurse.

I was taken out of the 'piddle room' and told to go back to the waiting room and drink some more cups of water.  "Drink some more and jump about a bit", another nurse told me.  Ten cups later and after a bit of hopping around, I was taken back to the 'piddle room'.  Now I had thirty cups of water churning inside me.  And yep, still nothing.

At this point I was taken back to reception and another appointment has been made for me for February Sixth.  I have to do it all over again.  You guessed it, as soon as I left the clinic, I headed straight to the public toilets and yes ah yes....

I got back in my car, right in the middle of "rush hour".  Why do we call it rush hour?  No rush at all.  Just a long line of vehicles seemingly going nowhere.  The only 'rush' I got was, to my horror, the other twenty eight cups or so of water, were begging to get out.  There I was stuck in traffic and my guts were busting.  I thought I was going to wet the seat.  I held back knowing that my car was going in for servicing the next morning.  Can imagine the mechanic wondering what the strange smell was.  By the time I got back home, I was in agony.  Back in Leek to take a leak.

Now I should hopefully be ready for the next time at the hospital.  I shall avoid going to the toilet before leaving my home.  Knowing my luck, I will sit patiently waiting my turn at the Central Treatment Suite, note the old dudes drinking cups of water and promptly pee my pants!  

Meander In This Market Town.

There are days I wake up and still find it hard to believe that I actually live in England.  Then I stare at the sign, see the cars on the opposite side of the road and listen to the accents.  I'm in England and there are times I get real scared.  

I can wander along, wander aimlessly and wonder aimlessly.  I can walk the streets as the invisible man.  A man who knows that even amongst the crowd, I am a lone and solitary figure.  And even so, there are those magical fleeting moments where the people who see me laugh and smile at my contrary, zany disposition. Yet, despite these times of lacking direction, of fears of an uncertain future, these moments I meander in this market town, make me realise how much I have and how far I've come along.  

And I reflect upon the reflection, on the window and in my mind.  I think back to that day when I took that chance, uprooted my life and moved to this market town.

I gaze at the virtually deserted street and feel a sense of calmness amongst my confusion.  This market town, a poignant reminder of some of the worst and some of the best times of my life.

One final look westwards down Derby Street in Leek.  One final moment to savour the spire of Trinity Church, as it points towards the evening glow.  

Now it was time to go home.   Home and back through my front door.  A life of a virtual recluse who for those few magical fleeting moments, went up into this market town, made them laugh, made them smile. 

A Cacophony Of Confusing Chatter.

For too long, I've been feeling like I'm the solitary figure, sitting in a crowded room.  Off in the corner, listening to the voices, blending together like garbled gibberish.   Not one voice discernible amongst the cacophony of confusing chatter.  

Yet, I felt this way as I sat alone in my living room, trying to battle against the negative energy that has battered my fragile ego.  I needed calm.  I needed peace.  I needed the mixed up voices of the inner critic to hush and let me breathe again.  Then I remembered just how beautiful it is in the world just outside my front door.  I needed to go out.  The above photo is a view of  The Roaches, just four miles from the town of Leek.  The photograph was taken from a vantage point just a few minutes walk from where I live.  

 Three miles north of where I live, you can get this magnificent view of Rudyard Lake in the foreground and a hill named, The Cloud, in the background.   You can click to enlarge any of the photos.

And now I observe the view on offer from the road that runs along the side of The Roaches.  Off in the distance, the sleepy town of Leek can be seen.  

You may be aware just how sunny and warm it has been here in Britain.  Here is the sun almost set beyond yonder hill.  The view from The Roaches, on this most gorgeous of days, left me feeling alive and refreshed.

 The sun had almost sunk beyond the horizon.  I sat there alone and reflected upon the day, that glorious day I decided to go out and learn to breathe again.  The cacophony of confusing chatter had been replaced by the soothing calm of a gentle voice.  The voice that told me that the negative energy would never defeat me.  

And tomorrow?  Well, based on today, I shall endeavour to live my life embracing the magic of a positive reality.    

Twilight In Leek.

It was twilight.  A glowing sun cast reddish hues upon the town of Leek.  In the centre of the photograph is Waterloo Mill,  now converted apartments, once a thriving silk mill.  In the background is the cliff formation known as 'The Roaches'.  

And as the sun dipped over the western horizon, I stood on the hill, not far from my home and I soaked in the beauty of twilight.  Twilight at the end of a warm and sunny day.  The church you see is named 'St. Edwards'.

To the north and the east, the shadows of darkness enveloped the sleepy little town of Leek.  Leek, 'The Queen of the Moorlands' and just a few miles away from the magnificence that is the Peak District National Park.

I looked off into the distance.  The twinkling lights, the remaining embers of a reddish pink sky, were  reminders that is was to time to head home.
I do almost everything on my own.  I sit in the living room, listen to the ticking of the clock, as the pendulum gently sways back and forth, back and forth.  I sit here alone and in between the chatter that torments my mind, I hear the beating of my troubled heart.  Gentle music plays sweetly in the background.  I listen to the sounds and reach for the comfort of a melodic tune.
Soon, I will go to bed.  Another restless night of staring at the waving shadows that dance and play on the bedroom wall.  And I will wonder, yes I will wonder, will the dawn, the calling of the morning birds, ease my worried mind.  Everyday is a new day, a new chance, a new hope that my sadness will end.  And through my darkness, way off in the distance, maybe, just maybe, I will see the flickering remains of my beacon of hope.

Positive Energy Saboteurs.

Being positive can be bloody hard work.  Yet the alternative is a place I try to avoid.  Oh I can find loads of reasons to be miserable, angry, resentful, envious and bitter towards those who seem to have everything going their way.  What good would that do?  Well no good comes from living life expecting every situation to become some, 'I told you so', negative inevitability.
I have encountered folks who will not grasp the concept that I want to live a happy and positive life.  They live their lives waiting, with great negative anticipation, the next terrible situation to enter their persecuted world.  If you don't drop everything you're doing and tend to their emotional needs, then you are, 'just like all the rest', indeed,  you've 'betrayed' them.
Now then, if they took action, made that phone call or visited someone, they might just find they're enjoying themselves.  Well, they're having none of that.  That's because they actually relish being mired in self-pity and they will be damned if someone else has the audacity to immerse themselves in positive energy.
These people are exhausting.  I have been kind, caring and supportive, yet instead of being grateful, they lay guilt trips on me because I haven't done enough.  Thus, like so many others, I distance myself from them.  This is what they want.  The need to be 'right' that the whole world is out to get them.  Nobody else has problems or concerns as bad as them.
Well, I will not let these positive energy saboteurs drain away my right to a peaceful and happy life.  I have distanced myself from such negative forces because I choose to become even stronger.  I've done what I can and I feel no guilt.  Now this might seem inappropriate and I apologise if you find the following offensive.  To all those positive energy saboteurs, I did what I could to be there for you, yet you dismissed me as just another nasty person with a hidden agenda.  Well, I say to them, 'fuck off'.
In my own ongoing pursuit of maintaining positive distractions, I took a few more photographs.  So, here you are and I hope you like them.  Thanks.

The above photograph is a view of Leek.  The tall building in the centre is called 'Waterloo Mill' and used to be a silk mill.  It has been converted to a block of apartment suites.  In the background is a part of the cliff formation know as 'The Roaches'.

Here is a view of a Roman Catholic church is Leek named, 'St. Mary's'.

This beautiful church in Leek is named 'St. Edward's' and is a popular gathering spot for people to observe the 'double sunset' that occurs here on the Summer solstice.

Another panoramic view of Leek and the surrounding and inspiring countryside.

Here's another shot that you can click on and fill up your computer screen .

And finally, another view of St. Mary's church with the haunting moorlands as a backdrop.  Thanks again for reading this posting and taking the time to view these photographs.  May you continue to embrace positivity.  With respect and kindness, your friend, Gary.

Warm On A Cold Day.

I am feeling warm
On such a cold day
I look down the hill
Watch the children play
The sun is shining
The snow it doth glisten
Ah the laughter I note
I listen, I listen.

It has been another cold early January day.  The Staffordshire Moorlands were bathed in the winter sun.
What a ideal moment for a walk and appreciate the beauty of a cold, clear, crisp winter's day.
I ventured from my home and took these photographs of Brough Park, in Leek.  To see the children playing, to hear the children laughing, as they frolicked in the snow; was indeed a wonderful sight.

Yes, it was a cold day.  Yet to get out, to immerse myself if the sights and sounds of such a magical day; brought me ever closer to the realisation, that my ongoing journey towards a better, happier life, had taken another positive step forward.  A new decade, a new hope, this I embrace.  I was warm on a cold day.

Strolling To Serenity.

It was a cold and clear late December day.  The final flickers of the sinking sun cast shadows on this peaceful, tranquil neighbourhood.  The view from my bedroom window filled my mind with thoughts of serenity.

Upon the top of the hill, is a wonderful place, a place I soon would go.

Behold, the place upon the top of the hill.  Westwood High School, Leek, Staffordshire, a magical school, a school of dreams, the school my son attended.

It was early afternoon, on a cold and foggy Christmas Eve.  I strolled the grounds, gazed at the clock tower and felt at peace with the world.
I walked alone, alone, yet content,   The cold wind howled through majestic trees.  The snow crunched beneath my feet.  This was my sanctuary, a place that nurtured my happy thoughts.
I heard in my mind the singing of a thousand choirs and the laughter of a thousand children.  This school, this enchanting school, this school of a thousand hopes and aspirations, had taken me under its spell.
One walk, one spiritual walk.  This Christmas Eve was a day I would remember, forever.
It was getting dark. Down the hill, off in the distance, I could see the twinkling lights of Leek. It was time to leave and reflect upon a perfect day.                                
                                                                                                                    

I headed back down the hill.  I turned around to take one last glance at the alluring beauty of that special, so very special place.  I had been strolling to serenity.  Serenity beats strongly in my heart.

Lost in Leek?

Greetings-

I live in Leek. That's right, I always wanted to live in a place named after an onion. So I'm living the dream.

Ah Leek, 'Queen of the Moorlands'. A fascinating place to live, where the locals still see me as a bit of a curiosity item. "Leek, greatest town in the world. What the hell are you doing living here?" I have been asked. What!? The scary thing is that the person who said that appeared to be serious. Hmmm...Life in a small English town.

The locals have asked me: "Ast ow right yung yuth?" Which I guess means: 'Are you alright young youth?' I suppose being nearer to 'bus pass age', I should consider such a statement a mighty fine compliment. Still it is rather a strange question. If you are young, than I would assume, that you are a youth. It's like calling me the equivalent, which I guess would be: 'Ast ow right ode elderly?' I think I've got that right?

I feel fortunate to live in Leek. Where I reside is a most pleasant, fairly quiet neighbourhood. Okay you get the occasional inconsiderate cow making a noise in the middle of the night. (Yeah, and sometimes the ones in the fields can be pretty noisy too!)

However I am blessed with having a very large, beautiful garden. Within a couple of minutes of my home, I can be out in the wonderful English countryside. That makes me a lucky dude. To be able to get out into nature, no matter the weather, fills me with positivity. I can wander off with my son's Jack Russell, in perfect solitude. Anxiety regarding going out my front door does not occur when I go for these strolls with the dog. I need to focus on that positive feeling when I am in social situations.

There have been times when I yearn to go back 'home' to Canada. I am so torn between two countries. Yet this is where my son was born. I do not want to distance myself from him. I am reminded of the consequences of my going to Canada as a little boy. For my Father, who lives in Leicester, has disowned me. I will always be here for my son. The choice of leaving England will come when the time is right for both of us. Perhaps that will never happen. Only time will tell.

So living in Leek, has been a very negative and very positive time for me. From the depths of despair when I was abandoned by my wife. To the powerful opportunity of getting a second chance to redeem myself with my son.

You see, Tristan was desperately unhappy living in his new family unit. He begged his Mother to let him live with Dad. This was not a contest, I just wanted Tristan to be happy. So my then 12 year old son moved into my home in Leek. I raised him on my own, doing the best I could. Support from others was non-existent. I am proud of what I did. I think I provided him with a 'normal' life whilst battling with my mental distress.

My son is now 18, yet he is still my 'little boy'. I was there for the miracle of his birth. Sadly, I missed his early years. That tore me apart but I have discovered a new resilience that keeps me moving forward. So many life-changing situations have occurred for the two of us in Leek. Living in Leek nearly destroyed me, yet, paradoxically, living in Leek has also given me the chance to move forward in a positive way.

Yes I am still an item of curiosity in Leek. I have some good-natured banter with the locals. We do indeed have some rather zany conversations. Actually, some of my chats with the 'Leekensians' make 'Monty Python' seem like serious drama. Typically though, someone will ask me, as I'm dressed to the hilt with Canadian advertising: "What part of the States are you from?" Huh!? I reply: "What part of Scotland are you from?" Knowing my luck, one day, somebody with an English accent will say: "Glasgow."

Lost in Leek? For too many years I was. Yet in this small English town, I have nearly found myself again. Whatever happens in the future in Leek, 'The Queen of the Moorlands', I know that permission to be positive has become a part of my thinking process. This fills me with contentment and a strange urge to stuff myself with onions.

I thank you for your time.